GoT: The Wolf and the Dragon
by Macattack22
Summary: This story takes place about 6-7 years after the War for the Dawn, with Jon and Daenerys on the Iron Throne. It chronicles Jonerys adjusting to royal life and trying to mend a broken and vulnerable kingdom.
1. Chapter 1

Jon paced back and forth outside the bedroom, brows furrowed up in worry. Daenerys cried out in pain once more, wrenching his heart. He found it hard to resist the urge to burst into the room to be by her side. The past nine months had been one of deep connection between them, the news of an expected child bringing them closer together. Jon was excited, but nervous as well. He wasn't sure if he would be a good father, having being raised a bastard. He decided that he would try his best to be as good a father as Eddard Stark was to him.

Daenerys screamed in agony once again, her labored breathing carrying all through the halls. Jon, growing ever more anxious, started toward the door, but stopped when Maester Samwell swung open the door.

Maester Sam stopped and smiled at Jon, his small chain link jingling.

"How goes it?" Jon asked nervously.

"Fine, I suppose. There's a good deal of blood, however," Daenerys interrupted with a piercing wail. "Don't worry, that's normal. A few more pushes and it'll all be over."

Jon frowned. "And just how many women have you seen give birth?"

"Not many. Two really. But Grand Maester Silas says that the pain is normal and it ends right when the baby comes."

Jon and Sam stood for a moment and noticed a sudden hush in the next room. Then came the loud crying of a newborn baby. Jon's heart raced as he pushed open the door to find Grand Maester Silas holding a wailing, pink baby boy. A sweat covered Daenerys smiled at Jon and a look of absolute joy spread across her face as she was handed their child. Jon smiled too, overjoyed at the squirming child. He only got a glimpse of its face before the handmaidens took it away to be cleaned. Dany smiled at him and he bent down to kiss her. He sat by her side, clutching her hand in anticipation.

"It's a boy," Dany said, still slightly out of breath. "What should we call him?"

Jon thought for a moment. "Always thought Eddard or Rickard was a good name."

Dany scoffed. "For a Northerner, yes, but he is a Targaryen, the blood of the dragon. He needs a worthy name."

"You're not going to name him Aegon are you?"

"No. That name is old and tired. He needs a name that is newer, that has a decent reputation."

"Good. I've always thought those type of names were a bit tacky."

"Are you calling my name tacky?" Daenerys snapped.

Jon was caught off guard. "Uh, what? No, your names not tacky, I just…"

Daenerys laughed at his discomfort, remembering how awkward he'd been when they first met. Jon sighed with relief at not having upset her. Sam entered the room holding the baby wrapped in blankets. He smiled at the both of them, handing it to Dany.

"It's a healthy baby boy."

Dany gently cradled their newborn son, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. Jon felt tears too, but he didn't want to cry in front of Sam and the Grand Maester. The baby was a tiny little thing, eyes barely open and tiny hands reaching up and grabbing the air. He opened his eyes and cooed at Daenerys and Jon. Sam still stood at the foot of the bed, seemingly waiting for something.

"Well," Sam began, still grinning widely. "What are you going to name him?"

"We don't know yet." Jon answered.

Grand Maester Silas stepped forward, his long chain jingling. "May I make a suggestion, Your Grace? Your family has a long tradition of High Valyrian names. One such as Aerion, Daemon, Maegor, Baelor, or even Rhaegar might prove suitable."

Dany frowned. "The last child I bore was named after my brother and he was stillborn. I want him to have good fortune in life."

"He will Your Grace. Rhaegar was well loved by all and a skilled warrior. Naming your son after his uncle will honor his memory."

"Jon? What do you think?" Dany asked.

Jon stroked his beard. He was still getting used to the idea of Rhaegar being his father and Dany his aunt. In fact, he tried not to think about it all, especially not when they were making love. "Rhaegar II Targaryen. I think it has a nice ring to it."

Young Rhaegar seemed to coo in agreement. The bells of the Red Keep began to ring, signaling a royal birth. Dany handed the baby to Jon, clearly exhausted from labor.

"Here. I need to rest for a moment. Screaming takes its toll." Jon cradled baby Rhaegar in his arms, gently rocking him. He smiled a toothless smile at Jon, waving his clenched fists in the air. Jon noticed that his eyes were the same color as Dany's. The peach fuzz on his tiny head suggested his hair might be the signature Targaryen silver/gold. Jon smiled back at the baby, warmth and pride filling his heart. He hoped with all his heart and prayed to both the Seven and the Old Gods that he would be a good father and raise a good prince.


	2. Chapter 2

Daenerys and Jon walked arm-in-arm to the throne room. Today was the day various lords and ladies and knights came to bring gifts to the newborn prince. The only noble family that wouldn't be attending was the Lannisters, as their yearly tribute to the Crown wasn't due until next year. In return for his life, Jaime Lannister had to swear fealty to the crown and pay a tribute of food and/or gold to remain part of the Seven Kingdoms. So far there had been no issues, and Jaime remained Lord of Casterly Rock.

Tyrion joined up with them, ready to walk in behind them. The voice of a herald announced their presence.

"Jon Targaryen, King of the Andals, Rhoynars, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm and Daenerys Targaryen, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons!" The herald took a long deep breath.

Jon let Dany sit on the throne, being the gentleman he was, even though the King normally sat on the Iron Throne, he never felt that comfortable in it. Dany, however, sat the Throne better than any queen had, regal and beautiful, and never seemed to let the power go to her head. Jon took his place, standing at Dany's right, with Tyrion on the left. The herald bowed and began to announce the lords and ladies who'd come to present gifts.

"Gendry Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands!"

The young, dark-haired lord approached the Throne, bowing to Jon and Dany. He was dressed in rather simple clothes, clinging to his humble background as a bastard child. Jon had only seen Robert Baratheon for the short time he stayed in Winterfell so many years ago, but Gendry definitely favored the late king.

"Your Grace. I congratulate you on the birth of your first child. I pray to the Seven that he grows to be a strong, healthy prince and a wise, just king."

Dany smiled at the former bastard. "Thank you, Lord Gendry, your wishes are well received."

Gendry knelt and unwrapped the sword he held under his arm. "This sword is reworked Valyrian steel," Gendry unsheathed the short-sword. "I forged it with my own hands, half a year worth of work. It has no name, but I believe you will find a worthy name for it."

Jon stepped down to Gendry and was handed the sword. The sheath itself was a masterpiece, the leather on the outside embroidered with the red three-headed Targaryen dragon. The hilt was pure silver, with a ruby embedded into the butt. "Thank you. I hope my son will prove worthy of this fine blade."

Gendry bowed and returned to his place in the crowd, as did Jon. Jon gave Dany the sword, who laid it across her lap.

"Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy and brother to Yara Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands!"

Theon approached the Throne, looking significantly better than he had when he and Dany first met. His hair was longer and had a healthy shine to it, he'd gained a healthy amount of weight, his face wasn't quite as sad looking, but one could still tell he'd been through hell. His clothes were fine and clean, and smelt of salt and the sea.

He bowed and presented himself and his gift. "Your Grace, King Jon," He acknowledged them, barely able to look Jon in the eyes. "Queen Yara sends her congratulations and wishes of prosperity. On behalf of the Salt Throne, I give the young prince a ship, one of the fastest in our fleet: Sea Dragon. It is moored at Dragonstone."

The court murmured, no doubt at the gift itself. "Thank you, Theon. The ship will prove useful someday, I'm sure." Dany said. But Theon wasn't done.

"Wait," He interrupted. He unwrapped an intricate longbow. "This is my gift to the prince. Take this bow, as a token of allegiance between Targaryens and Greyjoys…and Starks." Theon walked up the stairs and handed the bow to Jon, briefly looking in his eyes, silently apologizing again for his treason against Robb Stark. Jon nodded in acknowledgement.

Theon returned to the crowd. "Quorro, of the Dornish Dothraki stronghold!"

Dany's eyebrows raised. Quorro had been no more than twelve when they set sail from Meereen, but proved himself to be fiercely loyal to his Khaleesi. The young warrior was dressed in typical Dothraki fashion, with a stallion sigil embroidered on his shirt. He carried a small wooden chest and laid it before Daenerys.

"Khaleesi, this gift be for young khal," He started, struggling to use the Common tongue. He opened the chest, revealing a shining, scaled navy blue egg. "Dragon egg. Found in hills by river."

Dany rose to accept the gift herself, her chest swelling with pride and a bit of shock. She had not seen any of her dragons since the Sack of King's Landing, just occasional reports of sighting. Apparently, they'd been busy making more of their kind.

Quorro knelt and lifted the egg for Dany to grab. She gently took the box and gave it to Jon to hold. Several more lords and ladies from various houses presented gifts: House Estermont, Tarth, Mallister, Crakehall and others, but none rivaled the dragon egg. Soon the event was over, and Tyrion motioned to servants to have the gifts removed from the throne room. Jon stood and waited for instructions from Daenerys.

"So this egg," Jon started as they walked back to their chambers. "What do we do with it?"

"Nothing for now. It must be hatched from fire, by our son, in order for him to control it."

Jon was still getting used to that: having a son. It was a responsibility that rivaled guarding the Wall, not to mention having to protect the Seven Kingdoms and do right by the Realm. Jon and Daenerys entered into their room, where Prince Rhaegar was sleeping soundly in his gilded crib. Somehow Tyrion got the wrong idea, stopping at the threshold.

"Something tells me I'm not invited." He joked.

Jon didn't catch it. "No, you're welcome to come in." He sat the small chest on the bed and examined the egg. It was a deep shade of blue and had overlapping scales covering it, but it was as hard as stone, not delicate like other reptiles'. There was a great air of mystery about the egg, a sort of majesty and roughness to it.

Dany gently picked up the egg and walked toward baby Rhaegar's crib. Jon watched confused as she placed the egg in his crib, under the same blanket. Rhaegar stirred, but seemed reassured by the egg's presence.

"He is the blood of the dragon," Dany said over the crib. "And one day he too will wake dragons from stone."


	3. Chapter 3

**8 months Later**

Jon walked with haste down the corridor to the small council chamber. Usually, the king didn't attend small council meetings, but both Jon and Daenerys made it their responsibility to know the happenings in their lands. He pushed open the door and the council rose to acknowledge his presence, save Dany, who was intently studying a map. He sat at the opposite end from Dany, next to Ser Davos Seaworth and Tyrion.

"So. Tell me what's going on. By the look on your face Davos, it can't be good."

Davos sighed. His appointment as the Master of Ships seemed to have taken a toll on him, his hair and beard now fully grey. "It's not good at all, your Grace. The Dothraki east of the Mander in the Reach, they've been raiding and pillaging small towns. They're burning crops too. House Tarly, Fossoway, and Ashford have promised to march against them if nothing is done."

"They'll stop," Daenerys interrupted. "When I command them. They will have to, I am their Khaleesi."

"Just because you led them here doesn't mean you still rule them," Tyrion said, sipping on wine. "The Dothraki have their own strongholds, each with a chosen _khal._ I suspect that whoever they've chosen may not take kindly to a woman they no longer see ruling them from afar."

"What exactly can we do then?" Jon asked.

Missandei spoke softly. "Perhaps we could send a rider to them? To offer terms and negotiate, of course."

Davos nodded. "That seems like the most feasible option, if we don't plan on attacking and making them our enemies."

"Very well, I'll write the letter, seal it with our standard."

"Good. Anything else Davos?" Jon asked.

Davos sighed and handed Jon a letter with the Arryn seal on it. Jon opened the letter and read it aloud:

 _"_ _To the Targaryen/ Stark bastard, Jon Snow, and his fool queen: I, Robin Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, and Warden of the East, proclaim the Vale of Arryn to be a free and independent kingdom, separate from all rule and demands of the Targaryen Crown. Any attempts to invade the Vale will prove futile and all who remain loyal to your kingdom will be exiled or thrown through the Moon Door."_

Jon slammed his hand on the table. "What the Seven Hells? Has that boy gone mad?"

"No, but it seems Littlefinger's toxic promises festered in the young lord's head. I doubt that Sansa not marrying him also set him against us," Tyrion argued.

"The Eyrie is impregnable…except by flying on a dragon."

Dany spoke up for the first time. "Yes, Visenya Targaryen managed to win over the Vale by offering the boy-king a ride on her dragon. Unfortunately, I haven't seen any of my dragons in years. Besides, the Vale is stony and mountainous, do we really need it?"

"Of course we need it, your Grace. Losing one kingdom means the others may fall suit, it shows we're weak. Not to mention the Vale has important fertile farmland that's important if we're to feed the Realm this winter. We need their support and their land." Ser Davos said.

"We can't sacrifice any men marching on them, yet we can't afford to lose the resources," Varys observed. "That means we must rely on dissent from within. Surely not all of the honorable Knights of the Vale stand for this. After all, they were threatened with flying through the Moon Door, that couldn't have stood well."

Tyrion sat up with renewed attention. "Yes, you're right Varys. I hope your little birds are ready to fly, because this needs to be resolved with haste."

"They're already in the air, my lord."

Jon sighed. "Fine. Any news of the North and the wildlings?"

"Ay. Tormund's made himself comfortable at Bear Island with Lady Alysane Mormont. The wildlings have spread out, some own farms now, some hunt and work in taverns. One's even managed to become the shipwright at White Harbor. As for Sansa and Dorian, all seems to be well." Davos answered.

Daenerys stood, signifying the end of the meeting. Jon followed her out, not speaking, already knowing she was frustrated. She nearly slammed their bedroom door in his face before she realized he was behind her. She lay down on the bed and sighed in exasperation.

"Seven Hells! Ruling Meereen and Slaver's Bay was miles easier than this! Why can't everyone just cooperate?"

Jon sat down next to her, a glass of wine each hand. "We both knew this wouldn't be easy," He handed her the wine. "At least we're not entirely alone. We have Tyrion, Davos, Varys, and Missandei."

"Yes, but the final decision lies with us, as well as the blame or the credit." She drained the wine and sat the cup on the nightstand. She lay her head on Jon's lap, resting her eyes. He gently ran his fingers through her wavy, silver hair, still softer than silk. They both needed each other; she was the fire to his ice, he was the ice to her fire. Their love gave the Seven Kingdoms hope, something to hold onto through these tough years of change.

Dany nearly dosed off, but the sudden swing of their door opening woke her. In came young Prince Rhaegar, wobbling unsteadily towards them with nothing but a diaper on. He squealed and babbled at his newfound freedom.

Jon jumped up in surprise and smiled. "Rhae! What are you doing, little man?" He lifted Rhaegar and held him, kissing his cheeks. Soon after, his wet-nurse rushed in breathless.

"Gods! I-I apologize, your Grace. I left the tyke alone for one moment, and he takes off! Pardons, please, your Grace."

"There's no need to apologize," Dany spoke up, smiling at Rhaegar. "He's just curious, is all." Jon passed him to Dany.

Rhaegar babbled and smiled, kicking his chubby legs in the air. He pointed at Jon and gibbered, "Da-da, da-da!"

Jon smiled at the both of them. He sat next to Dany and watched as their son waddled clumsily around the room, happy and content.


	4. Chapter 4

**Somewhere in The Reach…**

The sound of burning brush, dying men, and horses echoed in the air. Dickon Tarly rode down the last of the Dothraki scum, nailing him from a distance with an arrow. Their mission was to destroy the stronghold, but they'd been diverted by a farce front. They believed they were already attacking the stronghold but it had been a mere trick, the actual hold being another 2 day's ride. Dickon's father made it clear not to spare any, to take no prisoners. He almost began to ride away, but not before spotting movement from a tent. He drew his bow and prepared to kill him, but not before seeing the figure's face. It was just a boy, no older than Dickon had been himself just years ago. His face was full of fear, and his eyes practically pleaded for his life.

Dickon sighed. "Go. Tell whoever you follow what happened here. Tell them we will water our burnt fields with their blood."

The frightened young boy nodded. He probably didn't speak Common, but likely knew enough to understand that that was a warning. He dashed off to find a horse and rode south like a demon was at his heels.

The Dothraki boy dug his heels into the mare's side, galloping at a breakneck pace. The horse was lathering, and like to pass out soon. The boy sighted his stronghold and continued to dash right in, still at a straight gallop. He jumped out of the saddle right before the exhausted mare collapsed and ran to Khal Jhako's tent. He burst into the tent, interrupting the Khal and his wife.

"Father!"

The Khal looked up angrily at his son, and pushed his wife off of him. "Stupid boy!" Jhako shouted in Dothraki. He went to strike the boy, but stopped upon seeing the dead mare outside the tent. "What is this? Who killed this horse?"

The Khal's son spoke quickly. "They're coming, Father. The Westerosi knights have promised to kill all of us."

"Then we will meet them with fire arrows and blood."

Khal Jhako's wife spoke softly. "My Khal, I don't think fighting will help. Your men are starving and can hardly ride."

Jhako grunted in frustration and stopped to think. "Khago, come," He put his hand on his son's shoulders and motioned outside. "Our Khaleesi promised to protect us. Look at us now. We starve and die, while she hides in her red palace." Jhako walked up to the still smoking pyre of his youngest daughter, perished of starvation. He grabbed the hot skull right off the ashes, wrapped it, and handed it to Khago.

"Go and ride to the red palace. Give this to our Khaleesi, remind her of her promises. Tell her what has happened here. Make her remember who won her this kingdom, who gave her her fiery heart."

Khago shuddered, but obeyed, taking the skull, along with meager provisions, mounted the freshest horse, and trotted towards King's Landing.

 **King's Landing**

This time Jon sat on the Iron Throne, with Daenerys by his side. The day had been largely uneventful, just reports of the summer harvest, and news of the coming autumn. The last compliant of the day was abrupt and unannounced. The herald did not even announce the young Dothraki boy as he approached the throne.

"You may speak," Jon permissed.

Khago spoke rapidly in Dothraki, ignoring the frantic looks.

Jon held up his hands. "Whoa now! Slow down and speak calmly," He looked towards Daenerys, who was fluent in Dothraki. "Tell me what he says, love."

Khago started again, much slower this time. "My name is Khago, son of Khal Jhako of the Reach Stronghold,"

Jon interrupted him before Dany could finish translating. "The Reach? Your _khalasar_ has been burning and raiding our people's fields. I should execute you where you stand for treason."

Dany interfered. "You will not! I am their Khaleesi; they are sworn to me. I will hear what Khago, son of Jhako has to say."

Jon sighed and motioned for the boy to continue.

"My father…would send you a reminder of your promises," Khago moved closer to the throne, prompting the caution of the Kingsguard. He started to carefully unwrap his sister's skull and repeated his father's words. "Let my sister, who died of hunger, be a symbol of your broken promises. Let this skull serve as a symbol of our suffering, as a reminder not to forget your starving khalasar."

Dany choked on the words as she repeated them to Jon and stared at the charred skull. Dany spoke up before Jon could. "You will stay here at the Red Keep. We will send provisions to your stronghold, in agreement to stop your raiding," Jon stared at the skull as well. "If the raiding and pillaging is not stopped…we will be forced to act against you."

Khago bowed and removed the skull from sight. Dany descended and led the boy to a guest chamber. Jon followed suit after inquiring if there were any more compliants.

Khago cautiously sat in a chair after marveling at the silverware. Dany and Jon stood, ready to question him.

Dany spoke up first. "Your sister…did she really die of hunger?"

Khago nodded vigorously. "She could not eat or even drink water, she was so sickly."

Jon chimed in. "A shame, that's good land you're living on."

"We don't know anything about it," Khago spoke. "Dothraki ride, we do not sow, we take our food and horses."

"Then I suppose we'll have to send someone to teach you to. Like I said, we can't have you trampling our fields. We too have people to feed."

Jon agreed. "Yes, and as the North would say 'winter is coming'. I don't intend to have the whole realm starve when it does."

Khago nodded, still somewhat distracted by a silver goblet. "I suppose that will work. A night of rest will do me well; I'm sweaty and hungry, and my ass is sore from riding. Then tomorrow I will leave with these provisions."

Jon and Daenerys looked at each other for a moment. They both knew they couldn't let the boy return immediately. They needed to secure Khal Jhako's loyalty, and there was no better way they knew how.

Dany looked back at Khago, who was stuffing several silver spoons in his trousers, but immediately placed them back. "You will not leave tomorrow, nor the next day, nor the next week. You will stay here, as our ward. Do not worry, we will still send food to your father."

Khago stared in shock at Dany and Jon. "What? No, you can't keep me here, my place is not here, not in this red palace," He argued. "No, I must return." He tried to leave but Jon held him back, gripping his shoulders.

"No need in fighting. You'll be treated well here, taught the Common tongue, fed well, and trained in the ways of court. You'll be raised alongside my own son."

Khago sat on the floor in defeat. When he was on the battlefield he was afraid, when his comrades were killed he was afraid then too, but only now did tears flow freely from his eyes.


End file.
